


All the Better

by Sforzie



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Post-Canon, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sforzie/pseuds/Sforzie
Summary: Aziraphale confronts Crowley about his habit of napping, well... everywhere.  Just a healthy dollop of domestic fluff and stuff.





	All the Better

One of the things that Aziraphale had to get used to, once he started living with Crowley, was actually dealing with the demon’s various personal habits. Some of them were not all that big of a surprise--Crowley was a very neat and tidy roommate, for starters. He brushed his teeth every morning, regardless of whether or not he had slept the night before. The one thing that Aziraphale had not been anticipating was the napping.

Crowley napped _everywhere_. If there was a moderately flat surface that he could fit at least a third of his body onto, it was game for the demon to fall asleep on it. Or half off of it, or curled into an uncomfortable looking ball with his heels on the wall and knees tucked under his chin. 

This sort of random somnolence would have made more sense to the angel if Crowley’s demonic form was that of a cat. But, it wasn’t, and Crowley sleeping anywhere that wasn’t a bed was starting to give the angel a sore back just from watching him.

One afternoon, when he found the demon flung over the back of his old comfortable couch like a discarded cashmere throw, Aziraphale finally had to say something.

“Why do you insist on sleeping like that?” he asked once Crowley woken.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” the demon said. “I was napping. Obviously.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“It just looks terribly uncomfortable, is all,” Aziraphale said. “I mean, why not turn into a snake if you’re going to drape yourself all over the furniture?”

Crowley picked up his sunglasses from where they had fallen behind the couch and wiped them off on his shirt hem. “Reptile germs.”

“Rep--Crowley, I don’t think that’s something either of us really have to worry about.”

Crowley turned his gaze away. “Seems like as good a reason as any.”

“There has to be a real reason, Crowley. I mean, I know you like to sleep, but I refuse to believe that you are that historically lazy.”

“Believe what you want, angel.” The demon stuffed his fingertips into the pockets of his too-tight pants.

Aziraphale tutted and went to start the kettle for tea. The demon’s mind was nearly as unknowable to him as that of God, and somehow a bigger nuisance to try and break into. God was easy. God was ineffable, you just simply didn’t have to worry about understanding. But Crowley, he was different. There was a great deal of mess going on inside Crowley’s head, Aziraphale was quite certain of it, but the demon was more or less indifferent when it came to sharing that mess.

“Did you want some tea, Crowley?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.” The demon was watching him now. “I mean, you know this is my favorite form to take on. ‘Cept for the hair, can never get that right.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, you’d said something to that effect before.” Aziraphale considered his collection of tea tins. Crowley had rearranged them again--this time by alphabetical prominence. 

“Well, you see, this form is good because it’s got arms and hands. Useful things, arms and hands. Good for picking things up and putting things back down--”

“And rearranging my cupboards?”

“Yeah, that too. Unless you’re tasked with being a great big ol’ doorstop, it’s hard to be productive when you’re ninety-five percent tail.”

“Fair enough.” Aziraphale sighed. “I just wish you would stop napping on the furniture like that. It seems uncomfortable, especially when you could just pop into your snake form and get comfy that way.”

For a moment, the demon did not reply. Then, his voice a touch soft, he said: “I know if I tell you I wasn’t aware that it was bothering you, y’won’t believe me, so I won’t try.” 

That was true, Aziraphale thought unhappily. Six thousand years of being something akin to friends, and he still assumed that the demon was going to lie to him. What kind of basis for a friendship was that?

“But I will try to keep that request in mind in the future.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Thank you, Crowley. And, for what it’s worth, I will try to give you a bit of the benefit of the doubt in the future.”

“Used with caution, hopefully.”

“Of course,” the angel said. “You are still a demon.”

Crowley said nothing as Aziraphale busied himself with making their tea. He was silent, yes, but the angel could still feel his companion’s presence creeping up behind him. Aziraphale was about to scold the demon for taking his tea while it was too hot and burning his mouth again, but was cut off.

“There’s another thing arms and hands are good for, angel,” Crowley said. His voice was close, nearly a growl in his ear.

“Oh, don’t try to intimidate me, Crowley,” the angel started. “You know--”

The demon’s long arms looped around his shoulders, hands folding over the center of his chest. Aziraphale felt the pressure of Crowley’s chin on his left shoulder, and the reassuringly warm presence of the rest of him at his back.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “You meant a hug.”

“I did.”

The angel had always thought that hugs were nice. There were uniquely a human invention, and one of the few that Aziraphale could think upon without any regret or revulsion.

“Don’t get many hugs in Hell,” the demon said.

“Nor up in Heaven, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale touched the back of Crowley’s hands. “Really, it’s the sort of things they frown upon.”

“Yeah, imagine Michael wanting to cuddle.”

Aziraphale gave a soft laugh. Crowley released his grip and stepped away, and now the angel did feel a touch of regret.

“Tea ready?”

“The tea? Yes, it should be good now. Go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring it out.”

Aziraphale watched as the demon ambled back toward the parlor.

“Crowley?” he called softly. The demon stopped.

“Black’s fine today.”

Aziraphale glanced down at the mugs, and then back to his companion. “No, I just wanted to say, well… if you want to have another hug sometime, I would be alright with that.” He cleared his throat. “Another hug with me, I mean.”

Crowley tipped his head to the side, and then half-turned to look back at Aziraphale.

He smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

And then the demon went back to the couch, flopping down with limbs in careful disarray.

Aziraphale smiled. “Good, good.”


End file.
